


The Middle of the Night

by lar_laughs



Category: Leverage
Genre: Community: thebigbangjob, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-03
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lar_laughs/pseuds/lar_laughs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the middle of a con and Eliot is bound up in a warehouse, out of contact with the rest of the team.  He has to rely on them coming to get him and they have to rely on themselves to get the job done in a timely fashion before he's too far gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ...Between the Shadow and the Soul (Pablo Neruda)

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my lovely beta, _Aster_. She talked me out of more dead ends and back away from the edge of more rooftops than I care to admit. If there are any mistakes of the grammar or spelling variety, it was only because I kept changing things up until the last moment.
> 
> And to _ghoulfang_ , the artist of the lovely artwork that inspired this piece which can be found [here](http://ghoulfang.livejournal.com/60038.html#cutid2). All this lovely Eliot-hurt is just for him!

Right from the start, it was clear that Nate was worried. While it was a typical response when they were on the job, and Hardison might have been more concerned if he was acting as if this stilted outcome was a sure thing, it was still disconcerting to see the frown causing extra wrinkles around their leader's mouth and forehead this far into the con. This should have been the time for them to be celebrating a job well-done. Nothing, it seemed, was going right this time around.

But it hadn't been well-done and it wasn't over. Not really. If anything, it only felt half-finished, as if getting the deeds back for the Gerster's sole racing car was only act one of a three act play. It was a metaphor that Sophie would enjoy. When this was all over, he should bring it up to her. She'd like that.

"Hope this isn't Hamlet," he mused as his thoughts ran to the last play that Sophie had invited them to attend. One of these days, he was going to have to get better at saying no because he was losing valuable hours of his life going to theater to see his friend forget lines and flub cues. He loved the woman like a sister but he had better things to do with his time. Not that he would tell Sophie that. No, never the truth.

Today, of course, was not the day to learn something new like saying no to her smiles. He'd gotten stuck in the front of the pawn shop for this part of the scam... although, he was having a hard time thinking of it as a scam. This was the pay off. This was the team doing something good for people. Really, this was much better than getting paper cuts and clogged sinuses in the backroom, going through piles of ledgers just because this guy didn't know better than to get it all on the computer where it could be done better and faster.

Really, it was good logic that he be out front. Of the rest of the team, he was the most capable of charm outside of a con. Sophie could have done this but she wasn't grifting anyone. It would have been just like that part she'd played in Hamlet at the Riverdale Theater... all those lines to say and not a single one felt like they fit together with what everyone else was saying. She could have played shopkeeper but it wouldn't have been something she was comfortable with. It was better that she was in the back with Nate, keeping him on task.

He wouldn't have minded Parker out here with him but she'd taken it into her head that someone needed to be at the warehouse to watch over Eliot. Not that Hardison had approved of that plan. Not in the slightest. She hadn't given him the opportunity to say no, though. This was her way of feeling better about her part in all of this. Getting someone kidnapped, even if it was part of the plan, never sat well with any of them.

The bell over the door rang before he could start organizing the cash drawer for the fifteenth time. It also gave him ample opportunity to ignore the rising ache in his chest, just below his collar bone. _Where your heart is? That ache? Maybe it hurts because this isn't really doing anything to help Eliot? You've been pushed to the back again, waiting to see if he comes out of this okay and it's starting to bother you._

He didn't bother to look up, not wanting to scare the customer away. It gave him time to consider what kind of shop owner he could play. Gruff yet sweet, like the kind of man who talked tough but always had candy behind the counter? Entertaining, always ready with jokes and anecdotes? That was the role he played in life so he knew he could definitely pull it off. Overly helpful, piling things into people's arms when they just wanted one or two items? There were so many options and it would all depend on how this first customer went.

"Excuse me? I got a call... is it true this store is under new management?"

Hardison let himself get a good look at the woman still halfway between the door and the register before he answered. She looked exactly like he'd assumed the typical clientele in his neighborhood would look. Run down and shabby yet with a sense of pride in her appearance as if she hadn't always been in these dire straits. Wilted by life and deathly scared of being wrong about the information she'd been given. He was going to assume that Erin Gerster had called some of her friends and this was just the first to come by to find out if it was true. Just like Nate said she would after the casual call he'd given her as they got into the shop. The man was just that good at reading people.

It was decided, then. He was going to go with honest. This wasn't the time for acting because this woman needed to know that she could trust him. The only way to earn trust was to tell the truth... or as much of it as he could without giving everything away.

"New management? You could say that. Were you a client of this establishment when it was owned by Mr. Simcoe?"

Her face flushed, telling the whole story in that one look. "I was in a few times, yes."

"Didn't appreciate the steep prices he charged to get your items back?"

"Not really, no." She took a step forward, still not sure what she was dealing with. In the grand scheme of things, it was a marathon worth of steps. "We needed the money, though. My husband was in a car accident last year and our insurance didn't cover all his expenses. The school district went with a cheaper insurance without letting any of us know so we hadn't thought to get additional coverage. We were just looking for a little more money than I was able to bring in from my job."

While all that information sounded like she was suddenly sharing a piece of her soul, Hardison saw it for what it really was. She was laying everything out for him. Nothing she'd told him could be used against her. It was all common knowledge. How he chose to use it would direct the path this interaction took. No matter what the real story was here, this woman was no fool. "You're a teacher?"

"No, I'm the head IT person for the school district."

Hardison's smile widened. It wasn't often he ran into a fellow geek on the good side of a con. "What systems are you using? I know a lot of school districts usually go with beauty over substance because they want the front office to look nice. You seem like you know your way around substance. Am I right?"

She smiled a genuine smile. This was obviously the very last thing she'd expected him to pick up from what she'd told him but the part that she was most comfortable discussing. And discuss it, they did. Hardison hadn't had anyone to talk to like this for so long he forgot his true intention and let himself get wrapped up in RAM and hardware and data connections.

Just as they got to the good part of the conversation, where he was able to show off a little of his expertise and she looked suitably impressed, Sophie cleared her throat from the door leading to the back room. "Hardison, you shouldn't monopolize the conversation. I'm sure Mrs.-" She looked pointedly at the woman while she waited for the information. 

"Cosgrove. Stacy Cosgrove."

"I'm sure Mrs. Cosgrove would like to look at her merchandise."

"I, uh, was just getting to that." For a moment, Hardison felt the sense of panic he got when he couldn't remember all the steps to the con. When he got so wrapped up in one certain part that everything else just sort of grew wispy and vague. "You said you had pawned something?"

The woman held up a naked left hand, the tan lines had started to fade on her ring finger but were still obvious if someone cared to really pay attention. "My wedding ring. Bryce and I were in a different place then. Both of us making a lot of money and able to throw it all in something as silly as a single ring. Now, I sort of wish we'd bought stock or property or something a little easier to liquidate when times got tough." Her voice wavered now and then but her expression stayed steady as she looked between Hardison and Sophie. "It's silly to be so torn up over a piece of jewelry but it was the first diamond I was ever given. It means a lot to Bryce to see it on my hand. Without the tangible proof, it starts to feel like we're not really married. You know?"

"Like it's just a part in a play." Sophie's voice had switched over to the pained one she used when she was thinking about how Nate wasn't quite what she wished he was in the relationship department. "And you can switch into another character and it'll all disappear like it was never anything but a side note in a playbill."

"Yes. Exactly. Like I said, it's silly. The thing is, we couldn't afford to buy it back. Simcoe's mark up was too steep but maybe... well, I thought maybe I could work out a deal for a different one. It doesn't need to be-"

"Yes, it does." Hardison wiped at a real tear that had formed in the corner of his eye as she'd struggled for composure, one that he had encouraged to start falling with just a bit of a push of thoughts about what Eliot and Parker were doing at the moment. "Yes, it very much does. You need your ring back. _Your_ ring. The one you started with."

***

It's been days. Eliot knows that but little else. He knows that he's let himself get taken right to the edge of his endurance and that his body can't take much more. It's going to stop functioning soon, rebelling in the only way it can at this point. Parts are going to get angry and they're going to start fighting back. The only problem is that the rest of the body will suffer, not the people doing this to him.

He tries to piece together what he knows. Make some sense of it all so that he can start forming a plan. That's what he's been missing this whole time. If he'd been smart... well, he wouldn't have gotten in this mess in the first place. Wouldn't have come back time and time again to the same messed up world that revolves around Nate Ford and his band of merry men. He never needed the jobs.

It was nice working with a team, though. A proper team, not one that melted into the shadows and didn't really matter once an op was running. In those days, he would do what he'd been told to do and heaven help him if he deviated. That's when things got messy because he was on his own. So this should be cake. Better than cake, even. He has only himself to take care of.

The scream rips through the room again. It's possibly a woman's high pitched scream. It might be Parker although he has a hard time imaging her screaming like that. This place is funny, though. The warehouse, what little he remembers of it, sends echoes ricocheting back and forth so that all sound clues are hard to distinguish so he's not sure if it's Parker. Could be a wounded cat for all he can tell. But it could be Parker. 

If it is Parker, he needs to be up and doing something instead of lying here on his back, counting his broken ribs. Three, he thinks. Maybe four. Right now, they're just painful and he's having a hard time catching a deep breath but nothing has been punctured or ruptured or damaged beyond a few good nights of sleep. It's all still under control. He's not letting them hurt him beyond what he's able to withstand. 

It's a razor-sharp line he's treading, though. At any time, they might slip into the realm of real hurt. He needs to get himself out of this before they get that far. If he had a good idea of what day it was so that he could figure out what part of the con the others might be working on, he might be able to start forming his own play to get out of here without bringing the whole house of cards down around his struggling body.

Between the pain and his body's need to repair itself without any help, he keeps blacking out. That's not good. He only knows he's blacking out because he was in a room with a sink and now he's in a room without a sink. They're moving him around, keeping him from memorizing the layout or finding a weakness. Smarter than the average bad guys. That should scare him but he just smiles into the darkness, trying not to wince as his lip splits open and the bruise over his cheekbone stretches painfully. They think they know him but they'll be wrong.

He doesn't work alone anymore.


	2. Light A Candle, Do Not Curse the Dark (Chinese Proverb)

Parker was intent on being helpful. In her mind, this meant being a little of Sophie, a little of Nate and a whole lot of Hardison. The hacker was always pulling people out of a bind. Mostly, she reasoned, it was because he asked questions. _What do you need? What's going on? What did you say? Where're you at? You're where? How did you get there? What do you expect me to do about that? Where's my orange soda?_ Although, she was drawing the line at the last one. No more orange soda for her. Nasty stuff. Nasty.

Questions. She needed to ask questions. And she needed to find a better extraction point than the one Nate had decided on when they first came up with this plan. From what she'd been able to see, Eliot was pretty out of it. Of course, that could be an act. Sometimes, Eliot was so good at being hurt that she believed him. When he let the pain shine through his eyes, she wanted to crawl under his skin and take away all the hurt. It made her want to hurt the people who hurt him.

She also struggled with understanding him when he was happy and whole. Sometimes, his smile didn't mean what it looked like it meant. Or when he growled at her, it didn't always mean he was angry. There were times, she discovered, when it meant exactly the opposite of what it seemed like it meant.

It took several swipes of her hand to get the tears out of her eyes. She wasn't completely sure why she was crying. Maybe because Eliot was hurt and maybe because it felt like it was her fault. Or maybe because she couldn't find a way out that didn't involve climbing up.

"Nate, this won't work," she whispered, knowing the comms would pick up even the smallest vibration so that she didn't need to worry about anyone overhearing her conversation. She also knew that everyone else could hear her admit that the plan wasn't a good one. It wasn't strong like their plans normally were. 

"If you can't do it, Parker, then-"

"Never said _I_ couldn't do it. It's going to leave him vulnerable for too long. Up isn't a good option. Not in broad daylight."

There was silence. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting. Maybe it should have been something like it had been when they'd been working out the plan and she'd kept questioning it and Nate had just kept repeating the same thing over and over again, "It's going to work, Parker, because you're going to make it work." Parker hadn't understood what he'd meant then and she didn't understand it now. Wenching Eliot up to the ceiling and then back down again once they made it out would not work. It wasn't the smart thing to do.

Smart? When had she started thinking of ideas based on whether or not they were smart? Nothing she did was ever considered smart. She knew full well that people looked at her like she was crazy when she jumped off a thirty story building with only a thin cord keeping her from plummeting to the hard ground. That was part of why she did it but also because it was fun. In a strange way, she enjoyed it.

What she didn't enjoy was knowing that Eliot was hurting and she was the one person who had been given the duty of getting him out of this predicament. 

In this situation what would Eliot do? He'd find every single person responsible and make them wish they'd chosen a different course for their life. While she was learning a lot from the training Eliot was putting her through, she didn't think anyone would be cowering under the fury of her fists. What would Hardison do? He'd write a code or something to make everything in the building go berserk while someone else did the hard part of actually walking into the place and retrieving the prize. She didn't have that luxury, nor would she be able to make even the smallest alarm clock to go berserk. What would Nate do? No, not Nate. She couldn't even begin to think like Nate. 

That left Sophie. What would Sophie do? Whatever she did, she would look fabulous doing it. And she'd flirt. While Parker was getting better at that, thanks to the attentions of both Eliot and Hardison, she knew she was no where near as good at flirting as Sophie was. It was art the way that woman played everyone. The one thing that Sophie would tell her to do was to play up her strengths, though.

Middle of the day. Only way in without being seen was the ceiling but even that was iffy because how could they have such good security around the perimeter without locking down the air ducts or the skylights. Eliot's injuries would be a liability.

_It's going to work, Parker, because you're going to make it work._

She smiled, throwing out the whole of the original plan that she'd been instructed on. Yes, it was going to work. She would see to that because she was Parker and she was the only person who could make this work.

***

The dream he's having is nice but he knows it's not real even before Parker begins hissing at him to wake up. At first he thinks to sink further into the oblivion where she can't reach him but that will corrupt the dream even more than waking up from it. Besides, as soon as he gets out of here, he can make the dream a reality. He wants to be sandwiched between two warm bodies, Hardison's strength behind him, giving him enough of an illusion of safety that means that he'll sleep deeply, and Parker's lithe body curled in front of him, cuddling him close as if he's precious and wanted for something more than fighting.

When he opens his eyes, she's leaning over him. "Rise and shine," she whispers as if he really is just waking up after a good night's sleep. Her smile is as enduring as it always is, just the slightest bit crooked but full of the wonderment she still has for what the three of them have discovered.

"Love you," he crooks out as he would if this was their shared bedroom. The only difference is that his voice isn't cracking because of emotion but from the fact that his vocal chords hurt from holding in the screams over the past few days.

She doesn't answer right away but there are tears shimmering in her eyes. It's all part of the job. All part of the life they've chosen for themselves because they don't know anything else. Besides, the good always outweighs the bad. The moment it doesn't is the moment he walks away.

Eliot's mind wanders (just further proof that he's not even at half the capacity he need to be) to a conversation he had with Sophie when she came back from her sojourns. "Why'd you come back?" he'd asked because he really did want to know. From the sounds of it, she'd had quite a time of it, gallivanting around the world like she had before they'd had a home base to call their own.

"Because there was still something I hadn't done yet."

"Conned the US President?" Of course, that was just a joke because conning the US President was too easy. It wouldn't even break a sweat on Sophie's forehead to get into the Oval Office.

Her smile had been so full of sadness. "No. I haven't had my one moment of pure happiness."

Eliot knows full well that he could die today and know that he had his one moment of happiness. Several of them, actually. It doesn't mean that he's ready to give up quite yet, though. When he smiles up at Parker, he realizes that he wants a lifetime more of those moments.

Without even being asked, he gives her a rundown of his injuries. Not the little ones that are more irritating than anything but the heavy duty ones that have him estimating his healing time into two digits worth of days. To her credit, Parker never looks concerned although the worry is more than evident as she follows the map of his words around his body.

She, in turn, relays it to the rest of the team. There is a moment where an exaggerated smile turns up her lips as she listens to whoever was talking on the other side.

"What'd they say?"

"Sophie's telling me to get you out of here, damn the rest of the job. Nate thinks I've wasted too much time on this new plan. Did I tell you I came up with it all on my own?"

"Parker," he growls, warning her with his tone about going against the game plan that has been set in play. He knew that the plan as he knew it was probably already shot but he didn't like it when Nate wasn't the architect of the con. He trusted the man to get them all safely to the end in a way that he hadn't trusted anyone else in a long time.

She scrunches up her face at him, giving her own warning about how well she likes being chastised. "It's a good plan."

"What does Hardison have to say about all this?"

Parker goes pensive for a moment, choosing her words carefully. She's protecting someone and he's too wrapped up in his physical pain to figure out who it is. "He said that you should trust me."

Ah, she's lying through her teeth about what Hardison said but it's also a signal. _Trust me_ is a phrase that is used inside the con quite frequently but it's also a phrase they've had to use with great regularity inside their relationship. None of them trusts easily, even now. Hardison's probably cursing up a blue streak right about now but she's calming him down, reminding him that she would never deliberating hurt either of them. Her words are also a balm to Eliot. Even though he doesn't want to, he can feel himself sinking into the kind of unconsciousness that isn't natural. It doesn't matter because Parker is going to get him out of here.


	3. ...Dreaming is Nursed in Darkness (Jean Genet)

There were tears in Stacy's eyes as she stared down at the large diamond ring that was back where it belonged, on the fourth finger of her left hand. "Are you sure I can't give you _something_ for it? I can pay what we were given for it. Not much more, though."

Sophie was already shaking her head, the dark curls grayed by dust dancing around her face in a frantic dance. It was amazing how beautiful she was, even with cobwebs lacing through her hair and over her clothing. It was the compassion in her expression that really set her apart, though. Everything about her screamed _I want to help you_ so that even Stacey's skepticism had evaporated. "No. We're not here to make this a business venture. In fact, we're only here long enough to make sure that everyone gets their items back."

"Back? As in, just handing them out? That's... insane."

The choice of words made Hardison smile. Whenever anyone thought they were insane, it always put them at a distinct advantage. "No, that's doing the right thing. Simcoe cheated a lot of people. He needs to make it right."

"And he will." Nate came through the back door, carrying a folder bursting with papers. "Sophie, I'm going to need your expertise for this next part."

"What's going on here? Am I going to get a visit from the police in the middle of the night, asking me if I know where you all are? You bought my silence with the ring but I don't think I'm going to go to jail for you."

"No, no. Nothing like that." Nate walked up to admire the ring that the woman was still flashing without realizing it. "Nice ring. Don't show Parker. She'll get ideas." He flashed a smile at Hardison who started to choke on the air he was breathing. "Tell me, do you have any experience with bake sales?"

The question made Stacy jerk as if he'd slapped her instead of asking a perfectly respectable question. It was so far out in left field, from what she could tell, that it felt wrong to be answering. Hardison could only smile because it was the same reaction that Nate got on almost every con. There was something about the way the man had of phrasing questions that was just a bit out in left field.

"Some. I mean, well, I do work at a school. It's the only way we can raise money for anything extra most of the time."

"Excellent." Nate actually rubbed his hands together, every bit the eccentric con man. "Could you get a few of your school friends together? We're going to have a bake sale here tomorrow. About noon, I think. What do you think, Alec? Noon?"

It would fit well into the timing they'd already agreed on for the end game, just as Nate knew it would. Hardison was the main contact here, though. He was the one that Stacy trusted the most. It was up to him to make her as comfortable with this plan as possible so he began to shake his head enthusiastically. "Noon. Yes. And do you think you can bake some of those turtle brownies that everyone is making these days? With the gooey caramel? Oh, I bet you make excellent brownies. I can't wait to try them."

When she nodded, it was in a daze, as if she wasn't sure how she'd gone from readying herself for battle to baking brownies for a bake sale. She promised to see them back here at noon and left with several backwards glances. To finish out their part, Hardison and Nate stood where they'd been, waving and smiling until she was completely gone.

"Do you think a bake sale is the right way to go with this?" Hardison asked through his wide smile. Not that he was complaining, though. He did really love brownies, especially when they had caramel in them.

Nate shrugged. "Why not? Let the community come together over baked goods as we close the chapter on Mr. Simcoe. Besides, I think they all need to be here for the ending. Don't you?"

And Hardison had to agree with him because sometimes you couldn't heal until you saw that the cause of the injury was well and truly gone. It was the only way to heal completely.

"Why don't you let me take over up here now that Sophie's in the back going over the paperwork. I think Parker could use an assist right about now."

As if on cue, the sounds of a distant explosion rattled the windows.

***

The punch lands poorly but the muscle protests anyway. Eliot tries to take the hit quietly but he can't help that the groan that comes out. The pain isn't for nothing, though. He's starting to get a read on these people, starting to understand how they think. Unfortunately, his injuries are starting to pile up. If he doesn't figure out something soon, he's not going to be any good to Parker. How would he be able to look Hardison in the eye if he couldn't do something as simple as keeping Parker safe?

That thought made him chuckle. Keeping Parker safe was a job for the angels. He'd done his fair share of time keeping people safe; Parker wasn't a person he would want to have to guard for long.

Why is she still here? He doesn't hear her scrabbling about in the ducts but he knows she's nearby. For that matter, why is _he_ still here? It's times like these that he wishes his comm still worked. If he thought it wouldn't make it worse, he'd get in a couple of his own punches. Worse for who, though? He's not thinking clearly and that bothers him. Because, let's face it, these goons have nothing on some of the groups he'd been held by in the Middle East. All he needs to do is shake it off and he'll be able to work his way out of these ropes and....

Eliot stares up at the ceiling. Hadn't he just been sitting up in a chair, getting the crap beat out of him? As he begins to process the new injuries, he realizes his jaw is sore and he can't see out of one eye at all now but everything is still in place. Whatever just happened, it hasn't ruined him. A few hits shouldn't have given him these kinds of time slips. That's still bothering him because he doesn't know how're they're doing it. How they're keeping him this docile when he should be at least trying to fight his way out of this mess.

There's enough give in his restraints that he can lift up his arms, enough to slide a finger along the crook of his elbow to see if he can find any needle tracks. Nothing in either place. And nothing that gives him any idea how he's going to get out of here.

As if on cue, the world tips on its axis. For a moment, Eliot doesn't realize that he can't hear because the wave of sound has overwhelmed his eardrums and his body has shut them down to keep from being harmed. When he's able to piece the facts together, he smiles. Parker is still Parker. Of course her plan would require explosives. He likes to think that she's learned things from him but she's always going to fall back on what she knows and that girl knows about explosives. Somewhere, she's probably crawling across the ceiling like a spider just because she can. Some things never change.


	4. ...Gazing Without Shrinking into the Darkness (John Ruskin)

The explosion had been satisfying but it hadn't been pretty. Slip-shod work, to say the least. It also had been rather minor compared to some of the things she'd been able to blow up lately. Parker wiped the dust from her dark clothing as she waited for bad guys to come see what had happened. When they rounded the corner, she held up her hands. "Oops. Did I do that? Sorry about that."

Just when they get within striking distance, she pulled the strap and waited for the familiar rush of air as the pulley did its job and she found herself among the rafters in just a few seconds. The men she'd left below were stumbling around, still unsure what they'd just seen happen. Even with the confusion, Parker knew that she only had a few minutes before they figured it out.

The maze of the warehouse below gave way to a completely different layout among the pipes and rafters of the ceiling. It was a struggle not to head right for Eliot's cell but she'd promised Hardison she'd let him take care of getting Eliot out of harm's way. All she has to do is lay the next set of charges and go get the second prisoner out of the holding cells. This is the part of the plan she doesn't agree with at all but Nate was insistant.

"Simcoe is the crux of this whole mission. We rescue him or we don't rescue anybody."

She knew he didn't mean it like that because he wouldn't let Eliot suffer forever. For a little bit, yes. That was part of what they did. As much as she'd hated to leave him there, without any help for his suffering, she'd gone along with it. Mostly, she'd gone along with it because Eliot had warned her right from the beginning to leave him be, no matter what happened. No other job they'd done so far had made her heart hurt quite like this one had, though.

So she was going to rescue Simcoe but she wasn't going to like it.

***

"Hey, buddy. You've got the strangest idea of time off."

It takes a minute for Eliot to focus on the face looming over him. He's not sure how much time he's lost this time but it's dark now, the only light coming in through the high windows is the artificial illumination from the lights on the street. "Hardison? I thought Parker was... I thought Parker was going to come get me."

"She was. Lucky for you, I came to make sure she did the job right." His smile is brilliant against the shadows of his face as he bends down, close to 

Eliot blinks again but he doesn't remember ever seeing this type of harsh smile on Hardison's face. He's like an avenging angel, bent on destruction and redemption with every swipe of his sword. That's just wrong, though. He uses a computer. Not a sword. But, still, the image makes him want to smile and that's saying something because his lower lip feels like it might split open if he tried moving it too much. "You wouldn't use a sword, would you?" he asks, his body aching with just the thought of having to get up. He doesn't want to admit that he's been bested by these clowns when some of the best governments in the world have tried (and failed) to keep him from getting out of their prisons (or dirt-walled holes, in some cases) alive.

Since Haridson's ignoring his strange question as he goes looking for the knots of Eliot's bonds, Eliot doesn't quite feel like he's being his normally overly-talkative self. Even though he always says he hate it when Hardison does it, he doesn't mind it in the last. Of course, the more he talks, the more it irritates Nate which only riles up Parker and that is never productive. Parker...

"Where's Parker? You should go help her. I'm good here for the time being." It will be nice for a chance to get used to sitting upright without embarrassing himself by falling back over. There is still a part of him that feels the need to be tough for his team, even if this is Hardison, who has seen him as soft and pliant as anyone else ever has. While this is not the time to come to terms with being rescued versus doing the rescuing, he has to push aside the compulsion to push Hardison away.

"Nah, she's good. She's busy taking on the rest of this group."

That thought has him groaning with relief. By saying _taking care of the group_ , he can only assume that Parker isn't taking stupid chances. He taught her better than that. Taught her to use her fists and knees and the hard part of her skull that won't make her more hurt than her opponent. He showed her the soft parts of the body that can be taken advantage of because most people forget about some of them, choosing to only protect the most obvious places. It's still easy enough to kill someone, even if you can't get to their internal organs through the soft tissue of the stomach.

"Got 'em all running around outside until they aren't sure who they should shoot at." There's a bleakness in Hardison't eyes as he looks up that tells Eliot just how bad he looks at the moment. "You good?"

"Don't know why I'm like this. I've been through worse, man. Keep blacking out. No tracks, though. Can't fight what you can't find."

Hardison goes still. It's freaky just how still he can be after seeing him always moving, always thinking. "No tracks? They drugged you?"

"Gotta be a two-stage drugging. Gotta be some sort of gas. They've never gotten close enough to me to get a needle in. Not that I remember. You'd think I would feel a puncture wound, wouldn't you?"

He's got one leg free and starts to work on the other. Even though Eliot knows he needs to lay still so that the job is easier, he can't stop himself from rotating his ankle around. It feels stable enough but then he hasn't been doing much walking around on his own weight for the past couple of days. Days? Has it been days? How many sunrises has he missed?

And just like that, he's free and Hardison is looming over him again. "I don't like the way he keeps going in and out of consciousness. He's not going to be much help." He stares Eliot in the eye but he's not really seeing him. Eliot wonders if he gets that kind of look when he's concentrating on the person on the other side of the comm.

"Tell Nate to stop worrying. I got this," he mutters but he doesn't mind. It's been nice to know that the others are probably worried about him.

"Tell him yourself."

The first step is the hardest. It's like he's forgotten how to walk or what his body is supposed to do but it soon gets a little better and he's not leaning on Hardison for quite as much assistance as he was. That was before he stubbed his foot against something that turns out to be nothing and he's dragging the other man down with him. 

"This isn't going to work," he tries to tell the other man but he doesn't seem to care. Hardison's just dragging him up like he's got nothing else on his calendar to do today except help his poor, drugged friend get out of the worst jam he's ever been in. "Seriously, just-"

"Just what? Just leave you here? You're going to get yourself out of here. Shut up, Spencer. Just keep your mouth shut and let's see if we can't do this sometime before-"

There's an explosion because there's always an explosion. It doesn't seem to phase Hardison so it's probably planned but that doesn't mean that it doesn't freak Eliot out just a little. That's a good indicator that there's still something wrong with him even if his eyes have stopped crossing. While they're stopped, he takes an inventory of his body. There's feeling in his feet and it's not too hard to walk on them. Of course, his legs aren't cooperating but there's nothing breaking. He still doesn't want to stretch anything in his upper body for fear of having a muscle group just give up altogether because he's taken quite a beating. His shoulders, in particular, feel like they've been pricked by a thousand spiders.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. The drugs have made him stupid because he should have picked up on it a lot sooner. Before Hardison can stop him, he's ripping off his shirt in an attempt to see the bruising. "Right there." He's vague about the area he wants to be searched but he figures the guy will get the idea. "They didn't use any of the normal sites. Isn't in a vein. Just in muscle tissue. You find it?"

"Small needle hole. Any idea what would do this?" 

Now that he feels Hardison's fingers brush over the multiple sites, Eliot feels like an idiot. They're so obvious. How did he miss them? "I don't know for sure. I'm going with Thorazine, though. That's the most consistent with what's been happening. Damn." But it's better than not knowing because at least now he knows that he can flush it out of his system. "Guess that means I'm not going to crap for a week. Yeah, I heard you giggling like a girl over there."

To which Hardison just lets go of his laughter and there's nothing Eliot can do but hang on for dear life because he's rocking them back and forth as he struggles to get a hold of himself. "Hate you," Eliot whispers again but he's smiling because it feels good to be around this kind of humor again. He's not going to die. Everyone is safe.


	5. ...When the Dawn is still Dark (Rabindranath Tagore)

"Now _this_ is a perfect day for a bake sale." Nate came strolling through the front door of the pawn shop as if he'd done it every day of his life. He was a chameleon, Nate was. Even though he hadn't been with them for the set up, he walked through all the tables and offered suggestions and gave out compliments as if everything had been his idea. Granted, he'd come up with the initial idea but Hardison had been working for two hours to get everything set up. After all his hard work, the women were situated at tables throughout the shop that had been cleared of all the merchandise. It was in the back, in boxes marked with a last name. Most of the people who had come to pawn their goods hadn't just come once. No, some of these people had sold most everything valuable they owned.

Having Nate around to take the credit was just another nail in the coffin of Hardison's bad day. It didn't help that he hadn't had a decent night's sleep since the whole situation started but last night he'd been in charge of watching over Simcoe to ensure he didn't run off while the rest of the team hovered over Eliot in the emergency room. In this city during this economic crisis, it was easy enough to explain away Eliot's injuries. Or, in this instance, _not_ explain them away. But Hardison didn't have the energy to follow that plot to its conclusion.

Now that he had his first chance to see Eliot, save for the few minutes as he and Parker had switched the captives they had each rescued, but he could barely see him due to the fact that Eliot was sitting in the midst of the working women, the table beside his chair heaped with a sampling of every single good thing that had come into the shop today. He was flirting ( _FLIRTING!_ ) with every single person in the room but hadn't even looked Hardison in the eye. Not when he'd come in the room supported by a beaming Sophie . Not when Parker had set up the little throne so that his subjects could come kiss his feet and tell him how wonderful he was.

Hardison wanted to have been the one to help him in, the shoulder he'd leaned on. He wanted to be sitting next to him, his hand where Parker's was as she watched over him like a mother bear with a wounded cub. He wanted to be doing anything but what he was doing at the moment, which was monitoring the tracking device he'd planted on the bottom of Simcoe's shoes this morning. As Nate had predicted, he was going right back to the men who had held him in the first place. Some people really were as stupid as rocks.

He hadn't only been manual labor this morning. As soon as they started arriving, he'd used his best asset and starting spreading the story of Eliot's incarceration to all the women who'd brought baked goods, embellishing it so that he came out looking like a cross between Batman and George Clooney. Haridson would have liked some acknowledgement that it had worked. Some little glance that said, _I know what you did for me and I'm grateful._ That wasn't Eliot's style, though. Hardison could normally work around that. Or, the Hardison that got enough sleep to function could work around it.

Parker kept brushing her hair back from her neck so that the bruise was standing out in stark relief against her pale skin. It was a near constant reminder to the fact that Hardison had almost lost both of them. It was melodramatic but it was true. He'd almost lost them. They both meant more to him than anyone else in the whole world. They were his family. They were his everything. And neither of them were looking at him. He was the pariah in this situation, a man with one single slice of turtle brownie and nothing else. Nothing. Not even his dignity because he'd spilled a bit of the caramel on his white t-shirt and now he looked like a toddler with a problem eating solid foods.

"Hardison?"

He jumped, just barely catching himself from letting out the most undignified little squeak of protest as he realized that Sophie was suddenly beside him and Hardison hadn't heard her get that close. He didn't know who'd been working with her on stealth techniques but he didn't like it. Not one bit. "Yeah?"

"You doing okay? You look... tired."

"I'm fine. Why? What did you hear? What did that weasel, Simcoe, tell you? I'm fine. I don't need sleep. Just some more soda. Where's my orange soda? I thought I had some right here. It was... but, no. Seriously. I'm fine." Even though rambling was normally his thing and it was done as a defense mechanism as he came to terms with what was going on around him, Hardison felt himself spiraling out of control as he looked around the perfectly set up room. It was the perfect set up for the unveiling. It was perfect. And all he wanted to do was to curl up in the corner and sleep.

It had been a long night after Parker and Eliot had driven away in the opposite direction that he was supposed to take Simcoe. The two of them had gone to a safe house. Well, it had really been an abandoned house not far from the pawn shop but Simcoe hadn't know that. He'd been blindfolded ("It's for your own safety, man. Quit your caterwauling. You sound like a five-year old who hasn't been allowed to have any dessert. It's unmanly, the sounds you're making.") and driven around the city for awhile so it hadn't felt like he'd only actually traveled six blocks.

Even though Simcoe had been rescued from the bad guys, he was still a flight risk. And not out of town. No, this guy really was stupid. He wanted to run _back_ to the guys who had been holding him. "I've got a plan, man. I've got a plan. Just let me go and I can make this all right. I can. I swear it, man. I swear it."

Eliot had gone to the Emergency Room and come back, sedated with all the really good pain relievers, before Hardison had even started thinking about sleeping. By then, it was almost time for this last stage of the plan to commence.

It was embarrassing to think that he'd thought about sleeping before the deal was over but his eyes didn't feel like they were blinking. Orange soda would only solve the problem for a little bit longer. He'd thought about switching to coffee but that would only make the inevitable crash all the worse. When this was over, he could crash. Not until then, though.

Sophie put up her hands in a defensive gesture, as if she might be frightened of Hardison. Most likely, she wasn't sure what he might do next. Hell, Hardison himself wasn't sure what he might do. His brain was sending signals that the rest of his body was just ignoring as it did its own thing. For instance, Hardison found himself mirroring her, putting his own hands up just because she had. 

"Hey, I'm just trying to help," she said in her most calming voice.

"If you want to help, get me another turtle brownie before Eliot eats them all." And because he didn't think he could handle watching the room get Eliot's attention any longer, Hardison went to the back to pretend that he had something important to do on his computer.

***

Parker, on the other hand, was having entirely too much fun. She'd asked all the women to call her _Alice_ and was swapping recipes like she'd been born with an oven mitt in her hand. When Hardison stalked into the back room, she watched him go but didn't get up to follow after him. He'd been acting weird all morning long, as if he was a rubber band that was stretched too tight and might snap back at any moment. She hadn't come up with that vivid word picture. No, it was what Sophie had said to Nate just a few minutes ago, when they didn't realize she could hear their whispered conversation.

It worried her that Hardison looked so lost. Unless she had missed something, it didn't appear to be part of the con. This was truly how he felt. Everything was good, though. They were at the end and all the details were falling into place with almost perfect accuracy.

She caught Eliot's eye and indicated the back room with a tilt of her head and a grimace. He grimaced back and shook his head. The two of them had to be out front when everyone else arrived. 

They didn't have long to wait, though. The bell over the front door (something that Parker would have advised getting rid of right away because the sound was nothing if not annoying) announced that the men had arrived. The last stage of the con could commence.

"This is... who said you could be here?" The rotund man that Parker had gratefully turned over to Hardison a little over twelve hours ago came storming in first. His eyes were fever bright as he surveyed the room, his fists balled up at his side as if he might start swinging punches at the first row of ladies he came to. "This is my shop. Get out! All of you! Get out!"

Nate cleared his throat. A normally quiet sound was abnormally loud in the deathly silent room. "I think you're mistaken."

"No. I'm not mistaken." Bits of spittle flew from Simcoe's mouth as he swung his head from left to right, trying to find someone in the room who might be able to read him in on the joke. "I think I know what my own pawn shop looks like."

A new man pushed his way in front of Simcoe, zeroing in on Nate. "Actually, I believe that I now own the majority of the shares in the business so that would make this _my_ pawn shop. May I ask what this is all about?"

"We're celebrating."

When Nate didn't elaborate, the man looked around the room with a speculative eye. While there was very little to like the man for, seeing as he'd had Eliot hurt in more ways than Parker could count, she found herself respecting the man for his attention to detail. He walked up to a table, looked over the snacks laid out. "May I have one of those?" he asked, producing a dollar to pay for the brownie that he was handed. After taking a leisurely bite, he smiled at the woman and nodded his thanks. Then his eyes connected with Eliot's for the first time and a type of realization dawned in his glance. "Celebrating what?"

It was all too civilized. Parker tensed as she waited for the fist fight to break out, thugs against soccer moms. It was only after Eliot laid a hand on her shoulder that she was able to let out the breath she was holding. With an apologetic look, she covered his hand with her own. This wasn't about getting back into trouble but clawing their way out to make this work for everyone gathered. This was about a community who needed to get rid of scum like Simcoe so they could start living instead of just existing.

"The opening of a brand new business venture." Nate's voice was louder now, boisterous and intense, as he began reeling in his catch. "This is the site of a new community-run shop. People will be able to buy and sell things here without being forced to accept only a pittance for their belongings. There'll be a place in the back where people can bring their computers to be fixed and, if they want, to learn how to do it themselves."

There was a wordless sound of exclamation from Stacey, the computer geek that Hardison had friended. She didn't know how he did it but he always seemed to find the one fellow geek in the room to befriend. His flirting had bothered her once but she was getting used to it. Just like she was getting used to the fact that Eliot was going to get his fair share of busted lips and black eyes. It was just what they did.

While Simcoe spluttered and fumed, the more urbane gentleman continued the discussion at a reasonably level of voice. "But this building and its contents don't belong to you. They belong to me. This sniveling little pile of excrement traded them to me for his continued survival. The money was transferred this morning, as a matter of fact."

Sophie was the one to speak up this time. "Have you checked on the status of that transfer?"

A quiet word to one of the men bracketing the door had one of them pulling out a tablet computer. After a few moments of navigation, his face turned pale and he held out the screen for the others to see. 

"I never lie," Eliot responded when the man turned back around, his face a mask of cold fury.

Parker had heard some of what Eliot had told his captures as she'd staked out the warehouse. Even though Simcoe had known nothing about him, Eliot had been dragged along because the thugs thought he and Simcoe were partners. While Simcoe kept up his story that he was a one-man operation, Eliot told them a much different story about a man who was always looking for a new mark to grift from with a story of a lucrative pawn shop in a dying city where everyone was willing to part with their treasures for a pittance.

"Where is my money?" The man turned back toward Simcoe who was only just now realizing the danger. "What account did you filter this into after I sent it to the one you gave me?"

"What? I've only got the one. I didn't do anything with the money. I was with you the entire morning. What could I have done then?"

But the damage was already done. The group of much larger men circled the smaller man who was beginning to whimper. "You gave me a promise of returned profits."

"But it's mine. I have the paperwork, fair and square. The building and land are mine. Take those. I'll sign them over to you. I will."

Sophie held out a sheaf of papers. "I don't think so. You didn't cross all your t's and dot all your i's. Clauses, my dear Mr. Simcoe. You must read all the fine print."

Without even bothering to check to see that Sophie was telling the truth, the men moved closer together to ensure their flight risk didn't suddenly find a way through their bodies. The ring leader turned toward Nate. "Thank you, sir. I apologize for taking up any of your time."

Chaos reigned for several minutes after the group left the building. "Is it over?" Parker asked Eliot, confused at how easy it had all been.

"For now. For Simcoe and the people here. It's enough for the moment."

She nodded, still surprised how little work they'd actually had to do. She'd only gotten to blow up one warehouse. Sophie hadn't even changed accents the entire time. It felt... too easy.


	6. Laugh Away the Morning (James Kavanaugh)

Hardison turned away from the doorway, stalking back to the laptop he'd set up. While he didn't necessarily focus on it, typing on the keys gave him something to do. He was so angry, he couldn't see straight. All their set up... for that? For a simple _Thank you for your time and consideration_ and that was all there was? No questions? No explanations how it all went down?

He knew that Stacey and her husband had been given a majority share in the property. The original people they had come in to help, the Gersters, were given a smaller share because they'd only really wanted their van back so they could continue to drive their handicapped child to school and the hospital for care. They were such a side note now that Hardison barely remembered they'd even been the reason the team had come to town in the first place. The rest of the shares were owned by several other families that Sophie had picked out of the group. Together, they had been presented with the deed and the money that had been siphoned from Simcoe's account this morning. It was actually something that Hardison had worked on while Simcoe had talked himself hoarse as he'd tried to get back to the con he'd been working on in the warehouse.

Whatever they chose to do with the pawn shop, it was all on them now. Personally, Hardison just wanted to get out of this city and back to the loft and the jobs that didn't involve one of the team members getting the shit kicked out of him.

As if his thoughts conjured him up, Eliot cleared his throat from the doorway. He limped forward until he stood beside Hardison, who reached out to touch him before thinking better of it. They stared at each other, sending silent messages back and forth. After a minute of communication, Eliot smiled. "Damn it, Hardison. The job's over. Quit holding yourself together 'cause I need a nap and a warm shower. Not necessarily in that order, of course. I suppose you get the picture."

It was all the invitation Hardison needed. He wrapped his arms around the man's waist, mindful of the bruises, and leaned forward until his forehead rested on Eliot's mid-section. "Did all your adoring fans go home?"

"Nah. They'll be here for hours yet. Nate and Sophie are planning on showing that Stacey lady the ins and outs of running a pawn shop. Might as well get someone in here who could run this place the way it's meant to be run." He ran a finger along the shell of Hardison's ear. "When you going to stop being jealous every time I look at a woman? It can't be good for your blood pressure."

"I like it when you look at Parker."

"That doesn't count. You know that doesn't count."

"It should count." He flinched when Eliot flicked his ear with his fingers but he settled back quickly into the warmth of the man he'd almost lost. "Are we really done?"

"We're really done. And I'm not going to be able to stand upright much longer. Take me home?"

Parker hovered in the doorway, a smile softening her features as she looked at the two most important men in her life. "How about back to the hotel room?"

"That'll work." Hardison waved her over because he needed to touch both of them. "For now."

***

Eliot sits on the couch, a cold beer in his hand, staring out the window. It's what he does after a job, as he waits for his body to give him the all-clear signal that everything is back to normal. More and more these days, it's taking him longer to get back to normal. There will come a time when he won't be able to rebound at all, when a break or contusion will leave him broken. That used to bother him. Now, he's starting to realize there are more important things that he should be worried about losing.

"You're looking better." Nate sinks down onto the other end of the couch, a bag at his feet. As far as Eliot can see, there doesn't appear to be a bottle or a glass of anything in the general vicinity. "Wishing you could go back and change your part in what we did?"

"Change it? No." There's something deeper in that question but Eliot isn't sure he knows how to go digging for it. This is what he does for them. He makes things happen by putting himself up against anyone who dares try to hurt his friends. His family. This time, he didn't get to use his fists and had to depend on his team to get him out. That took more trust than he thought he had in him. "It was what we needed."

There's a quiet moment where Eliot can almost hear the other man trying to formulate the words for his next question. That the two of them can even have this conversation is a testament to all their years of working together. They both know things about the other that no one else knows. Eliot is taking secrets to his grave about Nate and he knows that's reciprocated. 

When Nate didn't appear to have anything pressing to say, Eliot kept going. "I spent a lot of time looking behind me, never trusting anyone. A lot of time moving, never settling down. I have a team now."

"You had a team before. I've read what little of your file Hardison's been able to find. Not that it says a lot but it does show that you didn't work alone."

"Not like this. They... need me. Not just when they don't have anywhere else to turn. All the damn time. Parker's learning but Hardison... well, he's never going to use his fists first when he can use that damn computer of his to get him out of a bind. Neither are you or Sophie. Their strengths are in other things. It's different, being needed. It's nice. You all make me someone I might have been if things were different."

"Do you _want_ to be someone different?"

"No. Yes. You know what I mean." Eliot fumbles for the right words because suddenly he's not so sure he can explain this. Not so sure it's even explainable. 

Before he can find a way to get his feelings into words, something that will never be easy for him, Nate leans forward, shaking his head gently to show that he doesn't expect the question to be answered. Instead, he asks another. "Did the doctor give you an idea when those ribs would heal?"

He takes the moment to listen to his body before answering. There's only a twinge to even give him pause. No out and out pain. "I didn't actually wait around for the doctor."

"Fair enough." 

If he expects Nate to protest, he'll have to wait for some other conversation because the other man is just staring at him with a small smile on his face. 

"What if it hadn't turned out the way that it had?" It's the question that's been plaguing Eliot right along with the headache that will be a few days in fading. "I know there were other plans in place but what if, this one time, it hadn't worked out? What if someone had gotten hurt?"

"Someone did." Nate leaned forward, his chin resting on his clasped hands. "I didn't send you in there with the intention that it would go this far. I've asked a lot of you over the years, Eliot, but I didn't want this outcome."

"It was the only way."

But Nate shakes his head as he straightens. He's quiet again but Eliot lets him be. There are words that he needs to get out in the open so that things are square with them again. "We could have figured something out. Your life is not the price I want to pay for any con. Remember that, next time, will you? I don't know if I can get another one of you so quickly."

"What? Am I dog?"

Nate just grins. "Aren't we all?"

He's gone before Eliot can even think to nod in agreement.

Eliot sits on the couch, a slightly-less cold beer in his hand, staring out the window. He doesn't want to be alone any longer but there's no one else in the apartment. When he hears the door open, he turns with a smile as Parker comes in. She smiles back, a smile as big and wide as anything he's seen her wear in quite some time. It does his heart good to see her happy.

"Hey."

"Hey, you. Want some company?"

"Sure."

She settles down beside him, her head pillowed against his bruised shoulder but he doesn't care. It means something that she can settle down against him so completely, her body heavy against his because she's not holding herself stiff like she does when she's uncertain of her welcome. She trusts him.

"Hardison still sleeping?"

Eliot shakes his head as he takes a long drink of the beer. "No. He left about an hour ago. Says he'll be back before dinner."

"I suppose he expects you to make something. Can't have that, though. You're still recovering and that means no messing around in the kitchen. Sophie says so." When she starts to sit back up, he pulls her back against him. "I should go see what we have in the cupboards. Eliot, let me up."

"No, Hardison said he's bringing back pizza." He kisses the top of her head as she leans back against him, the scent of her shampoo drowning out everything else. This is what drives him. The thought of coming back here, to these moments. Teaching Parker the finer points of meditation even though she still falls asleep three times out of four. Listening to Hardison go on and on about the newest installment of his favorite comic and, finally, understanding what he's talking about because the latest issue has been sitting on the table beside his favorite chair like an invitation. Sleeping between the two of them every night because it's the only way he'll ever get a decent night's sleep.

If he's a dog, he's the happiest dog in the world because he doesn't work alone anymore. And, with any luck, Hardison will bring home more of those turtle brownies that they've all taken a shine to. More than one good thing came out of this job. Much more than anything he's ever dreamed of.


End file.
